


I Live And Breathe A Quiet Love

by Jinx72



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A very long oneshot, Blood and Injury, Chronic Hanahaki, Grieving, Hanahaki Disease, Hospital scene, Jesse McCree's Family - mentioned throughout, M/M, McCree has Hanahaki, Near Death Experience, Oneshot, Pining, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Typical Hanahaki Type Gore, bro like mchanzo is my otp but when the idea hits u just gotta go with it, death mentions, hanahaki, it has both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26264695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinx72/pseuds/Jinx72
Summary: Jesse McCree had never considered himself enough of a bleeding heart to ever get hanahaki disease. Or, he tried as hard as he could be, after witnessing his sister's fate.But the course of true love never did run smooth, nor expectedly, and he fell in love with a ninja.Genji left, and he left for a reason. And that was okay. This is what Jesse McCree tells himself in order to stay sane. But the reformation of Overwatch  brings old faces together, and reopens old wounds.And after nine years, Jesse is getting pretty tired of the taste of cherry blossoms.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Genji Shimada
Comments: 7
Kudos: 83





	I Live And Breathe A Quiet Love

**Author's Note:**

> So i've not written Overwatch fic in two years, nor do I necessarily ship mcgenji, but this idea came to me and i had to write it. Also i think I was inspired to the point of borrowing a lot of Jesse's characterisation from my favourite OW fanfic of all time, Blazing Soul by SibillaScribbles08, so uhhh oops? Also go read that it's such a good AU.
> 
> And, yeah. *slaps roof of fic* This bad boy can fit so many headcanons in it.
> 
> Enjoy

Jesse had heard of hanahaki before. When he was young, he watched his sister waste away, almost completely, before she’d gotten caught up in a gunfight, and the bullets ended up doing her away before the flowers ever could. They’d both wondered whether the flowers would ever actually do her in – some people’s never really finished the job. And honestly? Jesse still did wonder, sometimes.

He never thought himself that much of a bleeding heart to get it himself, though. He’d decided since seeing his older sister, previously so untouchable, keeled over on the ground hacking dandelions onto the baking concrete; that was enough incentive to seal his emotions right up and never have to worry about such things like coughing flowers ever again.

He’d been fifteen when he decided that.

He was nineteen when his body decided that it was time for him to get a taste of flora anyway.

The annoying thing was that it had caught him unawares – his sister had always been aware of her affections and was unsurprised when it turned into hanahaki. He had been so angry when it had hit him, he wanted to blame… he blamed…

No. No, even then, he couldn’t blame Genji. Genji had been through enough.

And the universe had never been kind to Jesse McCree before. So when he had straightened up from what he had assumed was a particularly bad bought of smoker’s cough, and realised that there were _flowers_ on his bedroom floor, he was stunned.

Maybe, he thought hopefully, these were blown in through the open window when he had his eyes closed.  
He coughed one more time, light and unbidden, and another few petals drifted to the floor.

Jesse had stared.  
“Fuck,” he had said.

* * *

He figured out pretty quick that they were cherry blossoms. And that ripped a little ironic laugh from him, because it struck him without a doubt who this was for. Who else could it be? Just last week, Genji had admitted that he missed seeing the sakura trees bloom, that it was the first year he’d missed it.

Genji had been admitting more and more things to Jesse recently. Spending more time, actually not threatening to murder him. The first time he got Genji in on a prank, and it had gone through successfully, and they were running away from an angry and now-wet Reyes, Genji had _laughed_ and _grabbed his hand_ and dragged him along faster, to a hiding spot that they actually got away with, which had the ninja pressed up against Jesse’s chest, and…

Jesse had never had to exert so much self-control before than in that moment. He wondered later if maybe he wouldn’t have had cherry blossoms in his lungs if he’d kissed Genji then. Because by _god_ had he wanted to. Genji had looked up at him, a laugh hidden behind that faceplate of his but his eyes clearly glittering with wonderful and rare amusement as he looked up at Jesse.

Jesse didn’t know how long they’d stood there, it took him a while to figure out they were in a broom closet. Genji refused to admit it, but when he was pleased or happy or excited, his systems would work a little harder, and he’d get warm to the touch and it almost sounded like he was purring. Warm metal under a sweatshirt pressed up against Jesse’s chest, and Jesse’s heart stuttered once more when he realised that the hoodie Genji was wearing belonged to _him_ , and it dwarfed the slimmer young man completely.

Jesse had never wanted to kiss someone more in his _life._

But he didn’t.  
And that, he mused, was probably where it started.

Genji had looked at him funny, in a way that made Jesse school what must’ve almost been a lovestruck smile off his face, before the ninja had elbowed the door open and slipped out of the closet, leaving Jesse, cold and bewildered, in his wake.

“It is safe to proceed,” Genji had told him, turning to him with a _hint_ of that glimmer left in his dark eyes, and he had stared at McCree until the cowboy managed to kick himself into moving.

“I will see you at dinner,” Genji had told him, patting Jesse on the arm – the metal one (Genji was the only one who had absolutely no reservations about touching Jesse’s prosthetic arm), before he disappeared off down the corridor (almost literally). He left Jesse staring after him, his flesh fingers drifting to rest over where Genji had patted his prosthetic.

Reyes had found him there minutes and minutes later, stuck in his own head, and had dragged him into his office to reprimand him, but no matter how many times Gabriel asked him if he was listening, Jesse couldn’t focus on that. Only on Genji.

That should’ve been his first clue. Considering that, he really wasn’t sure how his hanahaki had managed to sneak up on him at all.

* * *

The next month and a half was stressful. Very stressful indeed. Everything was slipping, Jesse could feel it. Reyes was getting angrier and angrier. Morrison was getting more and more distant. And Ana…

Jesse hadn’t come out of his room for a week after he’d heard the news that Ana was dead. He’d never thought he’d have to lose his mother twice.  
He’d let Fareeha in during that week, and they mourned together over junk food and some of those anime she’d been watching with her mother before that last mission.

Other people had knocked over this period of time. Jack Morrison had come to apologise. Jesse didn’t let him in. Gabriel Reyes came to ‘check up on him’. Jesse hadn’t let him in.

One night, when Fareeha had been there, someone had knocked. Just one knock. Jesse almost missed it. But he couldn’t stop himself from moving to answer that one knock like he had a hundred times over, and Genji had been standing there.

Wordlessly, Jesse had stepped aside. Wordlessly, Genji entered. And wordlessly, he joined Jesse and Fareeha on the bed in their mourning.

Fareeha had been nervous to press play now that Genji had joined them, but Genji had shifted in his place, and said quietly,  
“I used to watch this show with my brother. I do not mind watching it with you now.”

And Jesse had settled in between them, Fareeha resting her head on his broad chest with his arm around her, and Genji pressed up against his side, their shoulders jammed together like all Genji could do was remind Jesse that he was _here_ , and at some point during the night, Jesse’s traitorous hand had taken his friend’s and Genji _hadn’t let go_ and they were like that in the morning when Jesse’s terrible dreams woke him up two hours before his friends.

And they’d gather, sometimes. Angela got invited to join them, and Lena sometimes too, and the five of them would mourn the people they had known, and the institute that had housed them falling apart around them.

* * *

When Dr. Liao had been killed, they’d sent in Blackwatch to scour the scene. Jesse felt sick, but that was besides the point. They’d been sent to try and find evidence of an assassination, and to get a lead.

He liked Mina Liao. She was good fun, but most people wouldn’t’ve known it, for all the time she had spent in her lab. He’d taken to spending afternoons in there, after he’d dropped off a few packages over a few weeks and realised that he was basically the only company she’d had that whole time. He’d been an extra set of hands for her (not that he was very tech-minded himself) with her project, with her Omnic.

_The best thing I’ve ever made,_ she’d promised him. _Echo here will change the world. And for the better, like I’d always promised._

And the three of them, Echo included, would spent day in and day out talking and working.

He’d found it under a table, where it looked like it’d been flung. Echo’s activation chip. He remembered Dr. Liao explaining it to him; Echo couldn’t boot up without it. Whoever had come in here looking for Liao had been looking for a weapon, and looking for it in _Echo_ , and Mina had done all she could to prevent her work turning against humanity again.

Jesse fought back tears as he slipped the chip into the secret compartment in his metal arm. No one, not even Overwatch, would use his friend as a weapon. That, he could promise Mina. Even if it meant damning Echo to perpetual sleep.

He felt awful as he watched them pack Echo up and take her away, to be put into storage until they could figure it out.

Genji was by his side. He was aware of how much time Jesse had spent with the two, two friends he’d lost in one day. He’d been a silent comfort as Jesse mourned _again_ , already so tired, already prepared to give up.

Genji would never know how much Jesse truly appreciated it.

Jesse could tell by how many flowers he’d coughed up the next day.

* * *

It took a month and fifteen days – a month and a half – for Jesse to pluck up the courage to tell Genji about his hanahaki.  
It took a month and _fourteen_ days for Genji to leave.

He had knocked on Genji’s door that morning, before breakfast, deciding he had to get over with early or he never would, plus he was so tired of shovelling cherry blossoms out of the sink and into the rubbish bin – they were small flowers but often plentiful, it seemed.  
The problem was, however, that the door was hanging open. Which, for someone so _private_ , was a red flag in itself.

He entered without another word, shouldering the door open, eyes already scanning the floor to see if Genji was lying there, prone, hurt, but…  
He checked the main room, the bathroom, every square inch, but… nothing. Not a hair remained of the ninja.

All he found were two folded pieces of paper, one far bigger than the other. The bigger wad with _Reyes_ scrawled on it, and little one with _Jesse.  
_He was already running to Gabriel’s room before he knew what he was doing.

The itching in his throat made the running almost unbearable, the wheeze of his overgrown lungs trying to keep up far too present in his ears for Jesse’s liking, and he banged on the door far too hard as he leant on the doorframe and tried to catch his breath.  
Reyes yanked open the door with an angry _“what?”_ but his tune changed instantly when he saw Jesse barely keeping it together, trying to keep from… coughing or crying? Probably both.

Reyes didn’t hesitate. He took Jesse by the shoulder and guided him into his room, closing the door behind him.

As soon as Gabriel’s hands were on his shoulders, helping him stand, and his commander and friend and dad(?) leaning in to ask whether he’s alright, Jesse thrusted the wad of papers with Gabe’s name on it in his direction.  
“This… This was in Genji’s room,” he choked out, choked out passed the flowers wanting to spill just as much as tears wanted too. “There was one for you an’ one for me.”

Gabriel took it with hands that were only shaking a little, and opened it.  
Jesse did the same.

> _I am leaving. It is not safe here anymore.  
>  I need to find myself.  
>  Do not follow me. Do not stop me.  
>  And Jesse…  
>    
>  I am sorry.  
>  \- Genji_

Jesse’s knees hit the floor before he knew what had come over him. He managed to glance up to see resignation papers in Gabriel’s hand, with an added post-it note in the corner that he couldn’t make out from here, but Gabriel just looked stunned.

Jesse gave in to the cough. He hunched over, hacking out the cherry blossoms in his lungs out onto Gabriel’s nice carpet, and he felt Gabriel’s warmth sink down beside him, a hand rubbing circles between his shoulder blades as Jesse coughed up full blooms instead of just petals, and this time he could taste a hint of blood.

“Oh, mijo,” hummed Reyes, his voice heavy. “I’m sorry.”

Jesse took a moment to breathe as best he could, before sitting up on his haunches and scooping the flowers up, forcibly making revulsion twist up his face.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, getting to his feet and stumbling to find Reyes’ rubbish bin. “Never did.”

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Reyes gave him quiet prompting to go see Angela, get something sorted. He pointedly mentioned a-few-days-before-everything-ended that Moira definitely knew how to remove hanahaki, and successfully too, should Jesse wish to go that route.  
Jesse shrugged a silent _‘I’ll-think-about-it’_ and didn’t ask Gabriel how or why he knew that.

It was clear to see that the commanders didn’t _care_ anymore, about their employees or each other. And the day the building went down, the last thing Jesse saw was Gabriel storming into Jack’s office.

He’d dragged himself from the wreckage before the emergency crews arrived. He’d heard later that his commanders and had-been-family had been killed in the blast.

He wondered what happened to Genji.  
He downed his drink and decided it didn’t matter anymore.

All he left behind was a too-big tip and a small pile of cherry blossoms. The bartender swept them away into a nearby bin and spared only the thought that it was weird these flowers were here when it was winter and also Switzerland, and didn’t think once of the cowboy who left them behind.

* * *

Jesse McCree went to the only place he could think of.  
Home.

Well, what he once called home. But in Jesse’s defence, he’d thought of many places as _home_ over the course of his life.  
But no, this time, he grew out a beard just like his papa once had and moved _home_ , to the small town in New Mexico fifty six miles outside of Santa Fe where he’d grown up, where he’d watched his mother work her fingers to the bone, his papa broken under a gang’s iron fist, and his sister waste away before she was shot to bits.

The other McCrees died here. He might as well add his bones to the mix.

To his… annoyance, he supposed, he slowly learnt what kind of hanahaki he _had._ Some people, it killed in the course of a few months, their love so sudden and overwhelming that the flowers grew and spread and tangled and overflowed, and they’d drown in a garden of their own undoing.

Most people got it slow. A few flowers here or there, and it’d drag on for years slowly and steadily growing, never really impeding enough to _kill._ Just a persistent and painful reminder of a love that would never be returned.

Jesse had considered getting rid of his disease once and for all many times. But with no Gabe, no Overwatch, and no Genji, and no imminent death, he decided to mess with fate instead, and keep it. He had nothing more than the flowers in his lungs, and the tiny note rolled up around the chip stashed away in the secret compartment in his metal arm, to remember his old life by, to remember _Genji_ by. And the flowers, he figured, would be far more lasting than a little piece of paper.

The rancher he now worked for now didn’t care. As long as she didn’t find flowers where they shouldn’t be, she left him well enough alone, and McCree was grateful for it. The only beings who ever heard his lament on the whole matter were the cows and horses he worked with, and they didn’t talk back.

* * *

Jesse should’ve said no, when the message came through.

His old communicator had started blinking in the dead of night, and he’d pulled the thing into his lap and watched Winston’s message with amusement verging on outrage on the tip of his tongue.

After everything, Winston wanted to bring Overwatch back?

…

Perhaps it wasn’t _after_ everything, but _because_ of everything.

Jesse laughed at the offer, the yes/no answers of _are you with me?_ And he laughed at his old friend, the scientist, almost in relief. Because it was proof that someone cared about all that junk Overwatch had fed them years ago. It wasn’t the restarting of Overwatch for its own sake, but for the world.

He knew someone just fit for the task. More fit than him, who could barely breathe for the flowers still cluttering his lungs.

* * *

Watching Ashe and Bob and the other Deadlock gang members float away on the hover-trailer was good. _Funny_ , even. Jesse felt more alive than he had in years. He had almost forgotten the thrill of a gunfight in all his efforts to avoid them. But a McCree was never destined for a quiet life. That was something he knew well.

So he approached the crate. The crate he hadn’t seen in _years_ , since they’d carted it from Dr. Liao’s laboratory.  
He thumbed it open, and without hesitation, pressed the chip he’d kept hidden for so long into the slot where it belonged, watching with his heart in his throat as Echo booted up for the first time in nine long years, her eyes as wide and curious and happy to see him as the first day he’d walked into Mina Liao’s lab with a package in his hands.

He’d sent her Winston’s way with a _no promises_ from him.

But really, he knew it was a matter of time before he ended up on the monkey’s doorstep. His sense of justice had always been too strong for his own good.

* * *

The first (and honestly, _last_ ) thing he expected to see walking up to Watchpoint: Gibraltar was a Bastion unit.  
And especially a live one.

So when its turret aimed at him, and it whistled a threatening sound at him, Jesse had two instincts.

  1. Flash the fucker and run for it
  2. Put his hands up and pray



Because he was Overwatch territory, he decided to hope this was part of the defence systems, and put his hands up.

“Now, what’s got ye all worked up?” came a gruff voice from over the wall, and despite himself, a smile cracked across McCree’s face as he watched a little blond head poke up next to the Bastion.

“S’that you, Torbjörn?” he called.

There was a scuffling, a swear, and then the man in question properly appeared over the wall, and a smile cracked what he always remembered to be very stony expression on the man.

“Jesse McCree!” he called. “We was wondering if you’d grace us with yer presence!”

Jesse shrugged, wide and jovial.  
“You know me,” he called, “Just can’t keep my head outta trouble.”

Torbjörn laughed at that.  
“That’s just right!” he guffawed, then waved the cowboy on. “Come in, come in, I’ll let you in. Ye might just lift another fifty pounds off Winston’s shoulders at this rate.”

* * *

Jesse had been snatched up in a hug by more people than he’d even _seen_ in a year the moment he set foot proper in the base.

The first person, of course, was Lena. Her sunshine had not dwindled over the years, and he’d barely had time to blink before she had; that was, blinked right up to him in a flash of blue light and thrown herself into his arms.

“Jesse!” she hooted. “You’re alive! You made it! I’m so happy! Oh! I gotta tell Winston!”

There was a great _thump_ that made the ground shake, and Jesse snapped around to see Winston, the scientist himself, having just landed from a jump, already lumbering towards them, and he swept Jesse into his arms as well, Lena caught up as well.

“I was worried when I didn’t hear from you,” Winston confessed, and Jesse did his best to laugh off the anxiousness in Winston’s tone.

“Sorry,” he hummed. “Wanted to just disappear. Must’ve worked! But I’m here now.”

“I,” Winston started, before catching himself and setting the two of them down. “My apologies! Still, it’s wonderful to have you here, Agent McCree! But, on an, uh, more personal level.”

He leant down, peering at Jesse over his glasses.

“It’s good to see you, Jesse,” he said sincerely. “We really weren’t sure if you were alive until Echo arrived. And you’ll have to tell us how you found her!”

“Of course,” Jesse said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s good to see you too, Winston.”

“Jesse!”

He jolted around _again_ and was barrelled into by the Omnic in question.

“Jesse, I _knew_ you were lying when you said no promises!” Echo laughed, dragging Jesse up into the air for a spin in her excitement. “Aren’t you going to apologise for leaving me in the middle of the American South-West?”

“No,” Jesse shot back as she set him down. “Y’can fly, Ech. And y’have an inbuilt GPS. I knew you’d be _more_ than fine.”

She laughed, and that made Jesse’s smile stretch, because that was a sound he’d _sorely_ missed. Echo grabbed him by the arm and started to tug him onwards.  
“Come on! The others will want to see you,” she said.

“Who else is here?” Jesse asked in a _woah-there_ sort of tone, trying to keep his hope locked down in his chest amidst the flowers.

“Wouldn’t _you_ like to know?”

“I _would,_ matter o’ fact, that’s why I _asked.”_

* * *

The amount of people who had assumed Jesse was actually dead was a little staggering, and almost flattering in his opinion.

“Gabe had always told me I was shit at flying under the radar,” he laughed. “Shows him right, bless his soul.”

He’d been snuck up on from behind, and before he knew it, a pair of arms wrapped around his chest and he was heaved into the air with a playful _roar_ he knew immediately, and his hands clasped over Fareeha’s as he laughed.

“Woah there!” he shouted. “Last time I saw you, you couldn’t so much as lift me an inch!”

“A lot’s changed, _vaquero,”_ Fareeha taunted as she set him down, before spinning Jesse around by the shoulders and hugging him properly. “By Allah, Jesse, I _missed you.”_

Jesse found himself hugging back, hugging back tight, and tears beading up where he didn’t want them.

“I missed you too, ‘Reeha,” he mumbled into her shoulder. “M’sorry for disappearin’ on you.”

“As long as you never do it again, ever,” Fareeha said brightly, letting him go but clearly not wanting to, “I’ll be fine.”

“No promises,” Jesse said with a laugh, which earned him a punch in the arm. The joke was on Fareeha, though, as she punched his metal arm instead, earning a loud _clang_ , followed by an equally loud curse.

That led them to the medical bay, where Fareeha was getting her knuckles iced as Angela took the time to hug Jesse as well.

“You, _sir!”_ she half-yelled. “Have a lot of explaining to do!”

Jesse smiled and didn’t reply. Mostly because he didn’t know where to start.

“But!” Angela threw her hands in the air, hopping from foot to foot. “No time for that! You’re! You’re _alive!_ That’s good news! You’re here! I was so hoping I’d see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Ange,” he smiled, and Angela clapped her hands excitedly, before hugging him tightly again.

“We’ll have to do a physical before you get to go into active duty again,” she said, and Jesse felt his heart drop, his chest tighten with the need to cough, “but we won’t do that now. There’s plenty old and new faces you have to see today.”

* * *

The whole time Jesse was being led around, he was distracted. Because from every corner, every shadow, he expected Genji to jump him. And he really wasn’t sure if he was prepared, emotionally _or_ physically, for that. But still, he was awfully polite to everyone he met.

And, hey, it was so good to see Reinhardt again! And to get a hug from him. Jesse’s spine was _definitely_ back in alignment now.  
In all seriousness, the old German giant was a staple of Jesse’s life that he hadn’t realised how much he’d missed until he was standing in front of him again. Him and Torbjörn, and…

As they were walking across the training grounds, Jesse’s face fell. Rein and Torb were all that was left of the original strike team. Jack and Gabe died in the explosion. Gérard murdered years ago. And Ana…

He rolled his shoulders and decided to think about that later.  
Or, well, he tried to.

“Now, Jesse,” Winston had started nervously. “We have a couple… _old_ members, who decided to rejoin, that might come as a bit of a shock to you.”

Jesse, who’d been walking between Angela and Fareeha, with Lena further on his left and Winston further to his right, and his other old friends tailing them, shot a funny look at Winston.

“…How so?”

“Well,” Winston fiddled with his glasses, and glanced at Fareeha, of all people, who nodded tersely back. “They, also, were supposed to be dead. One for… longer, than the other, certainly.”

“Spit it out, man,” Jesse said, coming to a halt.

There were light footsteps, the certain sort of _tap-tap-tap_ making Jesse freeze on the spot, calling back to memories he’d been doing his best to treasure, and just by the footsteps alone, Jesse was already feeling faint.

If he looked, it’d be real.

“Jesse…” Winston tried, before just gesturing to the person standing across from them, her arms folded loosely across her chest.

Jesse didn’t want to look. If he looked… she’d be real.  
Fareeha put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Jesse,” said Ana Amari with a soft voice, thick with emotion. “It’s good to see you.”

* * *

Jesse considered himself a strong man. But when a man’s confronted by a woman he considered his mother, who he’d mourned for ten long years, who happened to be standing in front of him as sure as the sky was blue?

Well, he earned himself a little grief, hadn’t he?

He would be embarrassed by this response later, he knew it. But he burst into tears on the spot, pulling his hat over his face, before peaking out to see, _yes. Yes that really was Ana_. And before he could really stop himself, he was closing the distance between them and sweeping her up in his arms, dropping his hat in the process.

“Woah!” she had said jovially. “Careful there, cowboy. Old ladies are fragile.”

“Oh hush,” he mumbled, and Ana’s arms swiftly and surely encircled him too, in that way that he always remembered. “You fucker, you’re _alive._ ”

“That’s what we said about you,” she retorted.

“This is different and you know it,” Jesse grumbled back. “And I’ll be mad at you later, but _fuck_ , Ana. Fuck me, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Ana said softly. “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t know a better way.”

“Old soldiers are hard to kill, after all,” said another voice, a voice Jesse could never forget, one definitely touched with the rasp of age, like Ana’s was, and his head snapped up to see

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me,” he declared. “Out of everyone, _you_ survived, Morrison?”

“Not even a second of doubt,” Jack Morrison huffed with laughter, prising his mask off his face. “I’m impressed.”

“Soldier: 76,” Jesse deadpanned. “I had an awful feelin’ it was you. Didn’t want to believe it. I’ve never been more upset to be right in my life.”

“You wound me,” Jack joked.

“You’re lucky I’m too busy hugging Ana right now,” Jesse warned, squeezing Ana pointedly in his arms, who patted his shoulder lovingly with a chuckle. “Or I’d do far worse than wound you right now.”

Jack went quiet, before nodding.  
“Fair enough,” he rasped. Then he shrugged loosely, and _smiled._ “…It’s good to see you, kid.”

Jesse sighed a long sigh, letting Ana go finally and making a point of dragging his serape up to dry his face.  
“I fuckin’ hate you right now,” he said dryly. “And I ain’t much of a kid no more, but… you too, Morrison.”

* * *

He got a fitful night of sleep. Old faces and names and memories were all blurring, and if _Jack and Ana were alive what did that mean for Gabe?_ And _did Genji respond is Genji alive is Genji here would Genji hate him Genji Genji Genji_ and every time he was jolted awake, it was with an explosion lighting up the darkness beneath his eyelids, and hacking up flowers, more flowers, so many cherry blossoms on his pillow, and eventually, he dragged himself through his old wake-up routine as naturally as if he’d been amongst Overwatch yesterday and into the shared kitchen to seek some motivation in the form of caffeine.

He ended up meeting one of their newer members for the first time.

“Hana Song,” the young girl introduced herself as she plopped down in a seat across from him. “You’re Jesse McCree?”

“That I am,” Jesse said blearily, raising his coffee cup in acknowledgement. Then he squinted at her, trying to place her. “Ain’t I seen you before somewhere?”

“I’m famous,” she said plainly, in a way that you wouldn’t expect someone famous to declare, but left no room for argument. “I’ve been in a couple movies, you might’ve seen me on a poster.”

“That’s right,” McCree agreed easily, though that wasn’t where he placed her from. “But that weren’t what got you big, now was it?”

“I’m a streamer,” she said, with a smile and a wink. “I go by D.Va!”

She was here, in Overwatch, and it was clear she was very young.  
“I feel like there was somethin’ else,” Jesse stared into his coffee mug as he tried to think. “Forgive me, I’ve been livin’ in a backwater town with my head under a rock for a while now. Ain’t you military?”

Hana’s face twisted with surprise.  
“Yeah,” she said, quieter. “I’m the leader of Korea’s MEKA squad.”

Jesse had always been good with remembering the strange details.  
MEKA. Yes, he remembered hearing about that on the news one day. They defended Korea from the omnic in the sea – the name escaped him now and he wasn’t about to press her for more details.

“Forgive me,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. “I always like to know who I’m dealin’ with from as many angles as possible. You were one of those gamers that got recruited, right?’

“Yeah,” Hana replied, with less pep than before. Clearly he’d knocked the wind from her sails.

“Aw, I’m sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean t’damp the conversation. Here, you eaten yet? I’ll make us breakfast.”

* * *

It turns out that the smell of a hot breakfast attracted a _lot_ of people. And Jesse had expected this; remembered it. And he’d made a _lot,_ enough to cover everyone he’d met yesterday and more, just in case he hadn’t met everyone yesterday (which was the correct assumption to make).

He was quickly introduced, for instance, to Zarya, the giant Russian woman whose muscles put Reinhardt’s to shame; and that was a sentence Jesse McCree never thought he’d ever think in his life. But she decided he was good enough by the way he cooked the bacon – just right, apparently, which was fortunate. Jesse didn’t want to know what she’d do if he’d done it any other way.

But soon, the kitchen was alive with people in a way it hadn’t been in what must’ve been almost a decade, with Jesse at the heart of it. He’d picked up extra odd jobs over the years, one of which was working in a diner. He felt almost at home in front of the stove, and he made sure Hana got some of the best damn pancakes he’d ever made in apology for making her uncomfortable.

It was clearly the right move, because she started gloating about her delicious pancakes, and then had to valiantly defend them from her friend Lúcio (Jesse had heard of him too – musician-slash-rebel who was fighting Vishkar down south in Brazil, and also had his music on the radio often. Just because Jesse hadn’t worked as a black ops agent in years didn’t mean he didn’t think like one. Gabriel would’ve had his guts if Jesse had let himself slip).

As Ana walked in, he flicked the kettle on to boil and was already searching for her favourite tea, finding a box in the pantry and setting it out for her without a thought. He topped up the coffee pot numerous times, before everyone seemed to be sated, and he went about switching off elements and starting dishes.

“Jesse!”

Lena was the one who called, and she zapped into the kitchen and grabbed his arm.

“Howdy,” he said lightly, not budging from the pan he was scrubbing.

To his amusement, Lena giggled at that.  
“I forgot just how yee-haw you actually are,” she chortled, and Jese rolled his eyes.

“I’m just southern,” he deadpanned. “Now what d’ya want? I’m cleaning.”

“You don’t have to do that, you cooked for everyone!” Lena pouted. “Have you even eaten yet?”

“I had coffee,” Jesse shrugged. “And aw, Lena, are you offerin’? That’s so kind of ya!”

“ _No_!” Lena backpedalled, releasing his arm and making Jesse laugh because he _knew_ that the threat of chores would make her back off. “I’m just saying, I’m sure someone would do it for you!”

“Uh huh,” he raised an eyebrow. “And pigs’ll fly. Tell ya what, I’ll have some toast in a moment if you help me. Dry those for me, would you?”

She groaned, loud and dramatic, but slipped into place as asked, wielding a tea-towel and scowling at the dripping pile of dishes.  
“Alright,” she declared, readying up like she was about to run a race. “Watch out, here comes Tee- _racer!”_

* * *

Jesse had never gotten the dishes done so quick in his life. When Lena got into it, she _got into it,_ and soon she had taken over from him and the thing was done in a matter of minutes.

“Damn,” Jesse had said through a mouthful of toast as she finished up. “That would’ve been a very handy superpower workin’ at a diner. I wish I could clean dishes that fast.”

A cough tickled his throat. He managed to keep his mouth closed, and with a tiny grimace swallow the flowers down with his toast to avoid suspicion.

Lena slapped the wet tea-towel down triumphantly, and blinked over to a chair to flop into.

“I’m _spent,”_ she groaned loudly. “Never make me do a chore again, Jesse.”

“Aw, Lena,” he pouted, sidling over and taking the seat across from her. “They’re good for ya!”

“Oh!” Lena perked up, smiling wide. “Speaking of good things, you’ll never _guess_ who we heard from this morning!”

“Oh?” Jesse raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of his toast.

“Genji Shimada!” Lena announced.

Jesse choked on his toast.  
Genji?  
_Genji genji genji genji genji  
_Genji was coming.

He coughed, in part to save himself from the toast, but he quickly had to swipe a flower or two away from Lena’s sight (which she thankfully missed) as his mind caught up with the concept.

Genji was coming.  
Genji was alive, and he was _coming here._

“He’s bringing his master and his brother, apparently,” Lena continued on conversationally, her face twisting with concern. “Though I’m wondering about his brother. Didn’t he do… y’know, _that_ to him?”

Jesse’s mind was racing to compute.  
“Yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “Yer right. He did. Genji’s bringing him along?”

“Yeah,” Lena shrugged. “I saw him on the video call with Winston this morning. He looked… different. Happier. I think whatever he’s done over all this time has really done him good.”

_I need to find myself._

“Must’ve done,” Jesse agreed thoughtlessly. “I… thanks for the heads-up, Lena.”

“All good,” she smiled, though the smile was thin with concern. “I hear you two didn’t have the best parting.”

Jesse’s metal fingers drummed against the table.  
“Not much happened, really,” he said. “He was there, then he wasn’t. Not much to say.”

_Not much to say at all._

* * *

Jesse wasn’t prepared to see him.

He thought he was. But he really wasn’t. As the time crept closer (Genji had passed on that his estimated time of arrival was about 2pm), Jesse found himself pacing back and forth in his room as the walls felt like they were getting smaller and smaller, and there were cherry blossoms strewn everywhere he looked.

In his hand, he had Genji’s old note clutched tightly.  
He wasn’t ready. He never could be. He’d already braced himself, _prepared_ himself for never seeing Genji again and dying a slow and suffocating death because of it.

_Genji was coming. He’d be here in two hours._

Jesse wasn’t ready to see him.

Still, he forced himself into familiar actions. He rolled Genji’s note up and put it away in the secret compartment in his arm. He took twenty minutes to clean up all the flowers and hack up a few more into the sink. He got properly dressed and sat on his bed.

And he waited.

In that time, someone sent him a message. He opened it. It was Lena telling him that Genji was here.

_He was here he was here he was here_

Jesse didn’t move a muscle.

* * *

At dinner time, someone knocked on his door. Jesse flinched, standing up from where he had been sitting on the bed.  
“Jess?” called someone, and it was Fareeha. “…You okay?”

Without really thinking, he was at the door and opening it, and trying to smile. Fareeha was there, arms folded, but her stern face melted into something softer at the sight of him.

“Hey there, cowboy,” she said softly. “There’s someone who wants to see you, you know that, right?”

_Genji wanted to see him._

“Sorry, ‘Reeha,” he replied smoothly, faking a grimace. “I ain’t feeling the best today, I slept in.”

“Well, we’re all gathered for dinner,” Fareeha pressed. “Will you grace us with your presence?”

Jesse kept wondering why people kept insinuating that his presence was something to be appreciated.

“Naw,” he said. “Sorry, I… I don’t think I could stomach it.”

“Sounds serious,” Fareeha raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to send Angela your way? Being sick sucks.”

“Oh, no, no,” Jesse hurried, wrapping his arms around his stomach and fighting-fighting-fighting the need to cough so badly. “Just need to sleep it off. Get back to dinner, ‘Reeha. Sorry for makin’ you worry.”

“I’m always worried about you, cowboy,” Fareeha said with a shake of her head, punching him softly in the (flesh) arm. “…You sure? It’s barely been a few days, you seemed fine yesterday. Are you bullshitting me?”

Jesse was shaking his head, and his stomach was turning, and he couldn’t keep it down anymore. He raised one finger and darted away into his bathroom, Fareeha calling out after him. He hunched over the sink, begging himself to hold on, but the flowers came spilling out, hacked into the basin with a heaving chest, blood speckling the white porcelain.

Fareeha came in behind him, loitering in the doorway, and Jesse did his best to bodyblock her view of what he’d just coughed up.

“Jesse?”

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t ask, just… another time, ‘Reeha.”

Fareeha didn’t move. He turned from where he was gripping the sink, and watched her face drop. It was then he realised he still had blood on his lips, which he tried to quickly dash away.

“You _aren’t_ well,” she hummed.

“I’m usually not,” Jesse shrugged. “Go to dinner, ‘Reeha. I ain’t gonna drop dead overnight. I’ll talk to Angela in the morning, okay?”

“Promise?”

Jesse just smiled. He had always been a _no promises_ kind of guy, and Fareeha knew that. But still, she accepted his silence and moved from the room, pausing in the doorway.

“Get some rest, Jess,” she told him, her brow creased with worry.

“I will,” Jesse nodded.

“…Are you sure you don’t-”

“I’m sure.”

She left, with a troubled look on her face.  
Jesse sat back down on the bed, and tried not to think about the flowers in his lungs, the blood on his lips, the concern in her eyes, or _Genji._

* * *

He didn’t go see Angela the next day, though he had no doubt that Fareeha tattled on him. He didn’t get up, and he didn’t go for breakfast either. He was used to long days of going hungry during his time on the run; this was nothing.

He got a couple messages sent his way. He ended up switching off his communicator and staying curled up in bed, letting flowers build up over his pillow and bloodstains decorate the fabric by his head.

He didn’t feel good. He felt weak. For the first time in a long time. And he couldn’t even blame being a teenager this time.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself wishing for company. Wishing for someone to tell. Wishing for…

He remembered Gabe’s hands on his shoulders, framing him with warmth, his voice suddenly soft with concern, and calling him _mijo!_

God, he missed the bastard.

There was a tapping at his window. Jesse jumped so hard he fell out of bed, before scrambling to his feet, bug-eyed. As he reared upright, he turned to his window, only to burst out laughing as he realised that hovering outside the second story window was _Echo,_ waving cheerfully.

He crossed the room and opened the window, leaning conversationally on the window frame.  
“Well howdy, stranger,” he joked lightly. “How’r’ya doing this miserable Thursday?”

“I’m doing just fine,” Echo smiled back, mirroring his pose. “Though I came to ask you the same question. A little falcon told me you were supposed to see the doctor today.”

“I knew ‘Reeha would tattle on me,” Jesse laughed, though it felt sour in his gut. “Look, it ain’t important. I’m just a little under the weather.”

“Right,” Echo said. “And it’s got nothing to do with our resident ninja coming home?”

If he were more put-together, Jesse would’ve been able to hide his flinch. But as it was, he was exhausted (he hadn’t slept well), and he watched Echo’s face fall as he shied away.

“Jesse,” she said softly. “I remember you two got along so well.”

“I remember that too,” Jesse shrugged. “But he was the one who left. Ain’t on me to force us back together when he made his choice.”

It was Echo’s turn to recoil, and her face was twisting in confusion.

“I think you’d change your mind if you saw him,” she tried to prompt. “He’s a very different person from what I remember.”

“That’s what Lena said as well,” Jesse shrugged. “Look… I…”

He had a lot to think about. And if he were to be blunt, Echo didn’t have a clue what was going on in his head. He doubted anyone did.

Echo hadn’t changed in the slightest but she was lucky she never had to watch her creator and mother figure murdered in front of her, or had to peruse the murder scene afterwards. She hadn’t had to watch all her parental figures drop out of her life one by one like Jesse had – and then after nine long years, have to watch them stumble back in again. And Echo didn’t have to live with a goddamn garden in her lungs.

He’d only ever told one person about his hanahaki. And that person was, to the best of his knowledge, dead. So… it didn’t matter. Jesse would put his head down like he always did, be as useful as he could, and probably die in a gunfight when his lungs gave out on him finally like his big sister.

He was prepared for this eventuality. He’d been assured of it for nine years.

Echo leant in through the window a bit further.  
“Come on, Jesse,” she implored. “At least come and say hello. If you really think you can’t get along, you can leave, but… he wants to see you. He’s wanted to since he’s heard you were here.”

Jesse leant back as he tried to reclaim his personal space, and he was rubbing his face tiredly.  
“Fine,” he heard himself grumble, and he lifted his hands away from his face in panic in time to watch Echo’s face light up.

“You agreed!” she took his hands in hers. “No take-backs, Jesse!”

“Fuck me!” he groaned. “I… I didn’t mean to-! Fuck, _fine._ If it makes you get off my _dick,_ then fine.”  
He was fucked. His throat was prickling with the need to cough. The taste of blood was still present on his tongue.

“Great!” Echo pulled back so she could clap her hands delightedly. “Let’s go down now.”

“No.”

“Either I’m dragging you out this window, or we walk down to the mess hall like civilised people, Jesse McCree.”

Jesse felt sick.  
“Meet me at my door,” he might’ve said. He wasn’t sure. He was beginning to space out.

She smiled wide, and swooped away from the window. He slammed it closed and tried to remember how to breathe.

He took the time to… ‘clear his throat’ before Echo was all but pounding on his door, and he found himself musing over how he got himself into this situation. Still, he sorted himself out, slapped his hat on his head, and made sure his face was clean, before opening the door for the first time in several hours, and Echo grabbed him by the arm and dragged him down the corridor.

* * *

As they got closer and closer to the dining hall, Jesse started to dig his heels in.  
“Nope,” he said, his voice echoing around in his own skull too much for his own liking. “Nope. Echo? I can’t do this.”

“It’s just a reunion,” she told him sternly, catching his arm and patting his wrist.

“You don’t understand,” he shot back.

“We’re basically already here.”

“That’s very easy to fix. Y’ever hear about walking?”

“You’re being a coward, Jesse.”

“Y’know what? Yer right. I’m going back to my room.”

“You promised!”

“I don’t _do_ promises, Ech, you _know_ this.”

“…Jesse?”

Jesse froze at the soft voice, touched with synthesizers. Somehow, it was just like he remembered, but also far more gentle than he could ever have hoped.

His breath caught in his throat.

Jesse McCree snapped around, eyes wide, and standing there, in the doorway, with a loose but ready stance, stood Genji Shimada.

* * *

This was not the Genji Shimada that Jesse remembered. He was far less… _red_ , for one, than Jesse remembered (though he briefly recalled that Genji had told him that green had always been his favourite colour, and it looked far better on him, if Jesse was honest).

The other thing that struck Jesse was that Genji was… a lot more covered-up, for lack of better words. He used to show a lot more skin. Jesse couldn’t even see his eyes.

He could almost convince himself that it wasn’t Genji.

But who was he kidding? The pose, the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head, the careful step forward…

“Genji,” Jesse whispered, the sound rushing out of him like he’d been punched in the gut. “Y’look… good.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Genji joked back, his tone light but his head still tilted to the side, in a silent inquiry as to whether he was alright. “…It is good to see you. I was beginning to wonder if you were actually here, or whether everyone was playing a very complicated prank on me.”

_A prank._  
Jesse’s brain yanked him right back to the moment, that moment in the broom closet, the moment where his whole life began to spiral, and Jesse had to fight back yet another cough as he reached for his hat.

“Well,” he sort-of laughed, half-covering his face with his hat and swallowing hard. “Y’ll have to forgive me, Genj, I ain’t been very well.”

“So Fareeha said,” Genji nodded, and he looked Jesse up and down in a way that really made McCree feel like he was being stripped bare. “And Angela said she hasn’t seen you yet.”

“Damn,” Jesse said, letting his hat fall to rest on his chest. “Everyone’s been tellin’ on me today, huh? Jeez. I ain’t dying or nothing.”

“Maybe not,” Genji took a couple steps closer, and Jesse forced himself to stay relaxed. “But it did give me the impression that you were avoiding me, cowboy.”

“Me?” Jesse laughed at that. “Never.”

There was a sudden rush of movement, no louder than the evening breeze, and Jesse was almost knocked off his feet before he realised that between one blink and the next Genji had dashed over from where he’d been loitering in the doorway to into _right up against his chest_ and the ninja had thrown his arms around Jesse and was hugging him tightly.

Jesse’s hat fell to the floor. A swell of warmth rose in his chest, blocking out everything else other than _Genji Genji Genji_ and he wrapped his arms right back around him and noted with something akin to delight that Genji was warm to the touch, and almost purring in his arms.

“I missed you,” someone said, and it took Jesse a long moment to realise it had been _him_.

“I missed you too,” Genji replied, his words more breath than sound. “The beard suits you.”

That yanked a laugh out of McCree, a laugh that quickly turned into a _cough,_ and he was turning away to seal his mouth closed so no incriminating evidence escaped, forcing himself to swallow it down again and not for the first time, really _really_ hating how cherry blossoms tasted.

“Jesse?”

Genji had his hand on Jesse’s chest, almost like he had to reassure himself the cowboy was still there.

“Smoker’s cough,” Jesse lied easily with a close-lipped smile.

“You never gave up such a foul habit, after all this time?” Genji said, and he could almost imagine the ninja wrinkling up his nose.

“Naw,” Jesse smiled back, shifting so it was just an arm slung over Genji’s shoulders rather than a full embrace. “I needed to stay sane somehow. Now, what’s this I hear about a master of yours, Genj? Sounds like you’ve been up to no good without me.”

He could have sworn he felt Genji tense for a moment, before he was looping his arm around Jesse’s waist in return and leading him into the next room with the ease of old friends who never drifted apart in the first place.

_It wasn’t much of a drift,_ Jesse mused, _more of a yank, but that was beside the point._

* * *

Jesse was finding it surprisingly easy to hide his hanahaki, even with the object of his affections so near. He knew he probably wasn’t going to get away with it forever, especially with Angela trying harder and harder to corner him into a physical health exam, but she was a doctor, and he was an ex-black ops agent, so Angela had a far harder time of finding him in the first place.

Lena and Echo were right. Genji seemed like a new man, but in all the best ways. He was every bit that funny and lively guy that a young McCree had always assumed he might’ve been all along under all that trauma years ago. And peaceful. It was unnerving at first, just not… _not angry_ he was, but at the end of the day, it made Jesse fall even _harder_ for him, because it just made him so happy to see that Genji was actually happy like he deserved.

He’d often wondered over the years what had happened to the ninja. None of his speculations ended so pleasantly. Mind you, Genji always managed to defeat his expectations, so Jesse didn’t mind.

It was his brother that confounded Jesse the most, now. Because he saw in this man’s eyes years of regret sealed away behind a façade of anger and stoicism, one that must’ve been trained into him from the moment he could walk. And Jesse, at first, had wanted to meet like with like; to be _angry_ with Hanzo, because he remembered what it had been like for Genji when Overwatch had first scraped him off the pavement and patched him back together.

But Genji had forgiven him.

And after a month or two, Jesse was beginning to understand why. Hanzo reminded Jesse of Genji (a thought he made sure never to voice, lest he wish for an arrow somewhere he didn’t want it); absolutely wracked by hatred, to the world around him, sure, but mostly inwardly. Seeing Hanzo hunched over a table in the back corner of the dining hall pointedly ignoring everyone and letting the set of his brow do all the talking for him was _painfully familiar._

And so (with Genji’s permission first), Jesse retraced his steps from nine years ago, wandered right over to Hanzo’s table at lunchtime and loudly began to befriend himself a Shimada.

And hey, Hanzo only broke two of his ribs this time! Genji had broken three.

* * *

The months fell into comfortable rhythms. Jesse managed to get himself sent out onto missions despite the fact he hadn’t actually gone to see Angela yet (a feat he was impressed that he was still getting away with, honestly), and it was _great._

His hanahaki was surprisingly not that much of a hindrance, though he _did_ notice it had gotten more intense. And there was… a _little_ more blood than before. That was …okay. It was fine! He hadn’t gotten held up in a mission because of it yet, so therefore, it was fine.

He was surprised at how well he got along with everyone on base. People seemed to enjoy hanging out with him, even seeking him out, and he proved to be a hoot and a half with the younger members. Genji and him returned to old form without even really thinking about it, and their pranks were getting more and more elaborate as the days ticked by.

The most frequent target for pranking was Jack Morrison.  
It was _great._

But his luck was going to run out one day.

* * *

The start of the downhill slope, it seemed, was during what turned out to be his last active mission for a while.  
It was supposed to be quiet, in-and-out, retrieve information and split sort of deal. They had with them D.Va and Reinhardt, Genji and McCree, and then Ana and Lúcio.

It was like the mission lasted a minute too long. It was only when the evac ship was on its way that it started to go to hell in a handbasket.

The only thing Jesse was fully aware of was _defend their healers_ and _mind out for flankers_ and _protect Genji_ , and that last one probably didn’t need as much attention as he was giving it, but he didn’t get this fuckin’ far to lose the bastard to a stray bullet, now did he?

And besides, he could barely keep an eye on the Shimada as he ducked and darted around with even more precision that Jesse remembered.

“Y’been practicing!” he called, impressed, as he watched Genji pull his short blade out of a goon’s neck and backflip away with ease.

“I could say the same for you!” Genji called back as Jesse shot down three men in a row without really looking. “Still sharp, cowboy.”

That snuck a little laugh from Jesse. All he’d really done was shooting cans off fences for nine years, but he’d take the compliments as he got them.

“Focus, boys,” Ana interrupted. “You can flirt when the mission’s over.”

As Lúcio laughed, Jesse’s mouth dried out, and a tickle bloomed in the back of his throat.  
_No,_ he told himself sternly, swallowing hard a few times and tossing a flash grenade in the eyes of a Talon goon trying to get the jump on Hana, who promptly swung her MEKA around and decimated the fool. _We aren’t doing this now._

“Tracer! How far away are you now?” Reinhardt asked, his good eye trained onto the enemies before them as he hurled a firestrike towards a cluster of them in the doorway, and retreated to put his shield back up in front of Ana.

_“Two minutes and counting!”_ Lena’s voice chirped over their earpieces. _“Hold on, loves, I’m almost there.”_

Jesse had been watching them scuttle around, shooting goons down where he could, but their behaviour was suspicious to him. They had little bundles stuffed under an arm, darting around pillars and walls, before running back to safety.

“D.Va!” McCree called, getting the teen’s attention. “Cover me, I’m goin’ to see what all that’s about.”

“On it,” Hana replied.

Jesse stalked into the shadows, and managed to catch one of the mercs unawares as they were sticking something to the wall.  
Jesse snuck up behind them and clocked them on the head with the butt of his pistol, knocking them out cold, before stepping over their body to examine what they had been doing.

His eyes widened as he realised what it is.

“Shit,” he muttered, before again, louder. “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re riggin’ this place to blow!” Jesse hollered, booking it back to his teammates. “Fall back, fall back! Out the windows, we need to get on the street!”

Chaos unfurled, and it took Reinhardt charging a whole in the goddamn wall for them to have access out the building. Jesse quickly counted everyone in front of him as he made for the exit, mentally counting down the seconds they had left.

One, two, three, four, and he himself made five…

Where was Genji?

He turned sharply on his heel, shouting for his friend as it turned into the last twenty seconds. Genji dashed out of the shadows, too far away for McCree’s liking, racing towards the exit and towards him, and Jesse was running back to grab him. They were running out of time, running out of _time_.

He managed to grab Genji by the arm and help heave him onwards, even as the numbers ticked down and his chest tightened, and the others were already behind cover but shouting to them, and Jesse could’ve made it to safety if he hadn’t turned back for Genji, and as the bombs went off, Jesse threw himself over the ninja to shield him, wrapping his own body around his, screaming his name, and they were blown against a wall, and-

That was the last thing Jesse remembered.

* * *

Retroactively, Jesse realised as he slowly woke up in the medical bay of Watchpoint: Gibraltar, he didn’t really need to do any of that. The cybernetically enhanced, highly trained ninja could probably have gotten himself out in time.

All he knew was that his prosthetic had been removed, his other arm was in a cast, and that his chest _fucking hurt._

He cracked his eyes open slowly, feeling his head throb, and there at the foot of his bed was Angela and Ana, seemingly locked in debate. They didn’t notice him as he woke, nor as he slowly sat up (or struggled to try). In fact, it was only his coughing that drew their attention.

His coughing. Weak and painful, but it spilled cherry blossoms onto the bedsheets never the less, and the room was silent as he stared down at the delicate pink blooms, before he just slumped backwards.

“Fuck me,” he said eloquently.

“Fuck me indeed,” Angela echoed, and Jesse realised with a stab of guilt that she looked _haggard_. “Jesse McCree. You and I need to have some _words.”_

“Is ‘fuck’ one of them?” Jesse tried to joke weakly, attempting a smile but also aware that there must be blood on his teeth.

“Fuck is most _certainly_ one of them, you _fucking idiot,”_ Angela hissed back, and she held up her holo-tablet and projected for him what Jesse quickly figured out were x-rays of his chest. “Does _this_ look healthy to you?”

Jesse could only stare with a sort of horrified compulsion. He’d seen an x-rays of hanahaki before. But they’d been lightly rooted at the bottom of the lungs, a few clusters flowers branching out, but usually still quite sparse.  
His was _appalling_.

Fully overgrown, horrifically tangled, and so very dense.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” Angela demanded, and Jesse noticed to his horror (once more) that Angela was _crying._ “This… why have you let this happen, Jesse?”

“Relax, Ange,” he said with a weak smile. “It… It ain’t nothin’ new, and I doubt there’s anything y’can do anymore about it anyhow.”

“Jesse,” Ana said, and he nearly forgot she was there. “How _long_ have you had hanahaki disease? This… this is outlandish.”

Jesse looked away.  
“I don’t think y’all will want to know.”

“Oh, trust me,” Angela said icily. “I _do.”_

Jesse was breaking out into a cold sweat.

“Does anyone else know?” Ana pressed, and she came over and sat on the bed, a hand on his knee.

Jesse was freezing up. He knew his luck was going to run out one day but he couldn’t do this right now. He shook his head and tried to find his voice.

Angela was pacing. Muttering to herself, pulling up things to scrawl notes and calculations on, and Jesse’s old file, growing more and more frantic.

“Don’t tell anyone!” he finally managed to spit out, making the two medical women pause and _look_ at him incredulously.

“Don’t… don’t _tell_ anyone,” Angela echoed, and it sounded like it was grief that was about to knot up her throat. “Jesse…”

“Who is it?” Ana asked, reaching forward and picking up a bloom. “I’ll guess if I have to. In fact, I think I _know_.”

Jesse leant back and closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face.  
“It don’t matter, alright?” he shot back. “It never did. Just… leave it, Ana, Angela.”

“You… leave it?!” Angela echoed again, and she was beginning to shake. “Asking me to leave it is a _death sentence_ , Jesse!”

“It’s been _nine years,_ Ange!” Jesse finally snapped, bolting upright and glaring her down even if his chest screamed in pain and protest at the movement, shocking them into silence once again. “It’s _already_ a death sentence.”

He held the face for a moment longer, before the pain won back over and had him slumping back once more, his breathing shallow, and he couldn’t keep from coughing once more.

“Nine years.”

He looked at Ana, who just looked incomprehensibly sad. “What went wrong, Jesse? You were so close before I…”

Jesse closed his eyes.  
“I fail to see how it’s your fuckin’ business,” he spat out.

Ana recoiled, and he hated to see the hurt in her eyes but at the same time, it was glorious, because she didn’t have the right to just _waltz_ straight back on into his life and pick him apart after everything that had happened to him.

Angela started to pace once more, before shaking her head and collapsing into a chair by Jesse’s bedside.

“I’m not sure if I can remove it,” she said, her voice heavy with grief. “But! But I know some people who are very experienced in the field, I can get a specialist in, and-”

“I don’t want it removed,” Jesse said frostily.

He was met with silence.

“I beg your pardon,” Angela retorted quietly.

“I _said,”_ Jesse repeated deliberately. “I _don’t_ want it removed.”

Angela put her head in her hands. Ana folded her arms.  
“You sound like Gabriel,” she suddenly declared, and Jesse _felt_ the bite of that remark.

“I didn’t cave like he did,” he spat back, before he thought about whether or not he _should_. “He kept tellin’ me, ‘go to Moira, go to Moira! Moira will sort you out!’ Like _fuck_ I was.”

Ana and Angela stared at him in surprise.

“What?” he huffed, gesturing loosely with his plastered arm. “It was kinda obvious.”

“Gabriel knew?”

“Gabe found out the hard way,” Jesse shrugged, trying to remain impassive but it was awfully fucking hard to stay detached when hot tears were beginning to roll down his face. “He… I… Look, it didn’t matter, okay? It doesn’t. Genji’s _happy_. I don’t want to fuckin’ _take that from him,_ I never did. I did everything he asked.”

Ana looked at him funny, and Jesse looked around, trying to explain. His eyes alighted on his metal arm sitting on a table across the room, and he nodded to it.  
“Press two fingers into the indent just above the elbow.”

Ana rose from the bed and did as instructed, and carefully extracted the old note out of the secret compartment in the old piece of tech. She unrolled it carefully, and as she read it, Jesse watched her face drop. She hurried over to pass it to Angela, who was already on the verge of tears, but this seemed to tip her over the edge.

“Y’see?” Jesse said quietly. “It’s a bit fuckin’ hard to tell someone who wasn’t there.”

“This was all he said?” Angela cried, rising to her feet, shaking the note, and Jesse nearly went to yell at her to be careful. “He sent me years’ worth of letters, and _this_ was all you got?”

“He…” Jesse sat up again, carefully this time, getting comfortable in a sitting position, before just shrugging. “I was just some novelty friend. You _rebuilt_ him.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Angela hissed. “I… I’m going to tell him.”

“You’re gonna do _no such fuckin’ thing,_ ” Jesse snapped back, and before he even realised it, he had somehow risen to his feet despite his aching body and spinning head, and Angela seemed to realise the depths of her mistake. “Now give that note back, and leave me alone.”

“Jesse,” Ana cut in sharply. “Angela. _Enough._ ”

The two of them looked at her, silent.  
They recognised the voice. It was the voice of a captain. The voice of a mother. A voice you ignored _only_ at your own peril.

Ana held out her hand, and Angela hesitantly handed the note back over. Then she turned to Jesse and pressed it into his hand, before glaring at him.

“Get back into bed right now,” she said stonily, in a tone that left absolutely no room for argument, “before I sleep-dart you myself.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jesse mumbled, the anger bleeding out of him, all that was left was _shame regret grief shame_ , and he slumped back into his hospital bed obediently because he knew from experience that Ana’s threats were never in vain.

Ana stood there, hands on her hips, before the coldness leaked from her as well, and all of a sudden, she was just a tired old woman, no more and no less.

“Who else knows, Jesse?” she asked softly. “I ask only for your sake.”

“You two,” Jesse mumbled back. “And Gabe. If he’s not actually dead, like you two.”

Ana flinched.  
Jesse filed that information away.

“We… Winston will have to be informed, at least,” she continued passively. “He needs to know why you won’t be on active duty.”

“Not on-!” Jesse spluttered, alarm spreading across his face.

“If you think I’m sending you back out there _knowing_ that you have a garden in your chest,” Angela cut in, glaring death at the cowboy lying weak and prone in her hospital ward, “then you’re _very_ wrong, McCree.”

She had him there.  
Jesse sighed, and shook his head loosely.

“Whatever,” he said. “Fine. Tell the monkey. But he better fuckin’ promise to keep quiet.”

“This isn’t a sign of weakness, Jesse,” Angela argued. “You can-”

“Ange,” Jesse cut her off, and his tone was enough to silence the doctor at least for the moment.

Ana rolled her shoulders, and headed for the door of the medbay.  
“I’m going to go tell Winston now,” she said, pausing to linger in the doorframe, before glancing back at Jesse. “You realise… you do deserve a chance, right, Jesse?”

Jesse was lost for words.

“You could tell him,” Ana continued gently. “And either it goes away, or you are no worse off than you are now.”

“I couldn’t…” Jesse mumbled. “I couldn’t do that to him.”

Ana watched him for a moment, before shaking her head sadly.  
“If you really think that boy would be anything less than delighted by you,” she said plainly, staring him dead in the eye, “then you’re blinder than I thought.”

With that, she turned and left, leaving a silent cowboy and a quietly crying doctor in her wake.

* * *

The problem with getting along with everyone on base meant that when he was hospitalised, everyone wanted to come and check in on him. He had visitors at most hours of the day, which was annoying for trying to keep a secret, and touching for being a human being.

Echo had had her charging dock moved, so she could keep him company through the nights (and keep watch on him – Jesse wasn’t stupid – so at some point, he’d have to tell her about it too). Hana and Lúcio would come and sit by his bedside, talking about new projects and collaborations they were doing, and Hana usually had a handheld device of some sort.

One day, when they’d shown up at 11am on the dot on a Tuesday morning, Jesse was sitting up, waiting, chatting with Echo, who’d been kind enough to run an errand for him. She’d dug out an old device of his, something that Gabe had passed down to him, and he couldn’t think of anyone who could use it more than Hana.

“What’s this?” Hana had asked in confusion as Jesse thrust the thing into her hands.

“S’called a GameBoy,” he said, and watched her eyes light up in recognition. “It belonged to my… uh, my dad, I guess, and well, ain’t like I can use it right now. It’s got Pokémon Yellow in there, and I think there’s a Tetris cartridge somewhere around here.”

“These are really rare,” she said in a quiet voice. “You’re just giving this to me?”

“Yeah,” Jesse shrugged. “Like I said, ain’t like I was going to use it.”

* * *

After a couple weeks on the most unbearable activity on the planet – _sitting still –_ Angela let him know that his ribs were healed enough for him to leave the medical ward.  
She didn’t mention the hanahaki. Neither did he.  
That suited him just fine.

But now he was out and about, people were dragging him all around the base to check things out he missed. The Bastion unit who he’d sort-of met on his reunion day, they had a garden which they tended to very lovingly. Brigette, Reinhardt’s squire and Torbjörn’s oldest daughter, had arrived and joined while he was out of it, and she gave him a big hug.

He wandered out to the training grounds to practice with his pistol – Genji had said he had improved, but he hadn’t even been practicing with moving targets over the years, so the bar must’ve been horribly low.  
The air was crisp in the late afternoon. It was the first time Jesse had been properly alone in a while.

Well, he knew he was probably being monitored, by Winston if not simply by Athena, the watchpoint’s AI system. But that was okay.

He took a deep breath, and set about practicing.

* * *

Yeah, he was rusty. He was really, _really_ rusty. He wasn’t sure how he pulled it off in the field. Maybe it was the two weeks bedrest. Was it two weeks? It felt like longer. But then, Jesse had always been terrible at keeping track of time.

He took the moment to breathe, and closed his eyes. The blood rushed in his ears, and it felt like the world slowed down for a moment. When he opened his eyes, he could see exactly where he needed to strike to take down the bots, and-

_“Draw!”_

Five times, his gun spoke. Five training bots fell to bits, clattering to the ground.

As Jesse straightened up, reloading his pistol, pleased with himself, a voice made him jump.

“Impressive.”

There was a light _clank-clank_ of feet hitting the floor, and he turned to see Hanzo land delicately behind him, bow slung over his back, standing up straight and folding his arms across his chest.

“Well now,” Jesse said with a warm smile, tipping his hat at the older Shimada. “How’y’do, Hanzo? It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Hanzo agreed, closing the distance and standing next to the far taller cowboy in the afternoon sun. “I hear you took a bullet or two for my brother.”

“Not quite,” Jesse shrugged with a laugh, “but pretty much.”

Hanzo looked at him funny, like he was expecting Jesse to explain further.

“It, uh,” Jesse stammered, readjusting his hat. “It was more of a bomb, really.”

Hanzo’s face changed.

“The building was coming down,” Jesse started to ramble. “Talon was bringing it down on us. A-and he was gonna be the last one out, I just wanted to make sure he’d make it, I couldn’t leave him to fend for himself.”

“Though he probably would have survived better than you, seeing as you are…” Hanzo trailed off, at first looking like he wasn’t sure if he should or indeed _could_ joke about such things, before committing to it. “More… _fleshy_ than him.”

“I thought about that afterwards,” Jesse laughed, sticking his thumbs in his belt to guffaw about it as best he could.

“It…” Hanzo shifted on his feet, seeming to be searching for words, and all of a sudden the tone changed. This began to feel more like an interrogation. “It was quite a… _dedicated_ action that you took.”

Jesse swallowed hard.  
“I suppose,” he said, the words sticking in his throat. “But… y’know, he _is_ one of my oldest friends, I…”

His throat was beginning to itch. He turned away from the archer, trying to keep from doing something incriminating, like shaking. Or crying. Or, y’know, coughing up flowers.

“What I am trying to say,” Hanzo rolled his shoulders and fixed Jesse with his dark brown eyes, “is thank you.”

“Thank you?” Jesse echoed dubiously.

“For looking after my brother,” Hanzo explained. “…Both two weeks ago, and…”  
He looked down at his feet.

“I getcha,” Jesse cut in softly. “And… yer more than welcome. I’d do anything for Genji.”

The words felt a lot more incriminating than he intended.  
Especially when Hanzo looked up at him with a particularly calculating stare.

His throat itched real bad.

“Well!” Jesse exclaimed, miming stretching even though it hurt, and giving Hanzo the easiest smile he could muster. “I probably gotta head back in. This cold air’s beginning t’get to me, y’know what I mean? A man’ll catch a chill out here.”

“Then I will not stop you,” Hanzo acknowledged, in part still suspicious, but shrugging it off. Jesse had always made a point to respect Hanzo’s secrets. Hanzo was pretty good at making sure he did the same in return.

He slung his bow off his shoulder and nodded to Jesse, before moving forward to line up his first shot at a training bot.

As Jesse walked away, he did his best to keep his cool.  
He only got so far before the itch became an urge, and an urge became a demand, and he couldn’t keep himself from coughing any longer.

Hanzo didn’t move to acknowledge him at first, but when the coughing fit kept going, the archer could tell something was _wrong,_ even as Jesse tried to stagger away, a hand at his mouth to try and hide those traitorous little sakura blossoms that he knew Hanzo would understand instantly, but he only made it to the closest wall before he was leaning against it as his knees tried to give way.

“Jesse?”

Hanzo was had his side, and froze in shock at the sight of blood seeping through Jesse’s fingers. But before he could say anything more, Jesse’s knees gave out.

Jesse ended up sprawled, hands and knees on the cold concrete, hacking up bloody cherry blossoms onto the training ground floor, not for the first time thinking of his sister and her dandelions spilling out from her lips and painting the concrete, lamenting how hard he had tried to avoid her fate – and yet here he was all the same.

Hanzo was crouched beside him, wordless, but his hand was steady and warm on Jesse’s back, and for that, the cowboy was thankful.

Hanzo helped him through the fit, and after a few, painful minutes, Jesse McCree was sitting back on his haunches, tiredly wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and staring down in revulsion at the alarmingly large pile of bloody flowers in front of him.

“Sorry y’had to see that,” he mumbled, deliberately not looking at the oldest Shimada brother.

“…Am I correct in assuming that it’s for-”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll shoot you.”

Hanzo paused, and nodded sharply.  
Jesse supposed his response was confirmation enough.

Hanzo helped him to his feet, before guiding him towards the building’s entrance.  
“I will clean this up,” he stated. “Go and… get out of the chill.”

Jesse took off his hat, ran his hand through his hair, and stuck the thing back on his head, before turning back to Hanzo with wide and emotional eyes.

“…Thank you,” he said quietly. “And… I’m sorry.”

“Talk to him,” Hanzo said sharply. “Genji would hate to lose you.”

Jesse flinched, almost going to argue, before the fight left him, and he simply shrugged and nodded, and before turning away to hurry inside.

* * *

He didn’t talk to Genji, like Hanzo had requested. But Hanzo’s words had fascinated him, just like Ana’s had.  
_Genji would hate to lose you.  
If you really think that boy would be anything less than delighted by you, then you’re blinder than I thought._

Despite all his rambling about keeping out of the cold, Jesse found himself sitting on one of the old walkways in the middle of the night, wrapped up in his serape, admiring the stars and ignoring how cold the wind actually was.

He always liked the stars. Growing up in a small country town, he always got such a clear view of the stars. And here was no different. Stars were consistent. Just like cherry blossoms, and suffering, and other things that were always going to be a part of Jesse’s life.  
At least the stars were pretty.

He was dragged out of his thoughts by a body settling own beside him, and he jumped out of his skin as he realised it was _Genji,_ the fucker had snuck up on him.

“Got you good, cowboy,” Genji said with what sounded like a smile – it was impossible to tell with that mask of his. “You must be out of it tonight.”

“A lot’s happened,” Jesse hummed, turning back to the stars so he didn’t have to look at the man beside him.

Or, at least, that was the plan. But he heard a gentle _click-clunk,_ and his head snapped around to see that… _Genji had removed his face-plate.  
_Genji set it down beside him carefully, before reaching up and removing the top of the fixture as well, letting his raven hair flop over his forehead.  
Jesse watched him in awe as Genji took the time to rake his hair back – a familiar gesture. And he could see those eyes, those dark glittering eyes he’d missed so dearly, as they turned on _him_.

Genji’s whole face was visible right now – something the old Genji would never _ever_ had been comfortable with nine years ago. His entire lower jaw had had to have been reconstructed, leaving his face even now still looking pretty patchwork-y.

Jesse had never seen something more beautiful.

“Jesse,” Genji said quietly, and for the first time, Jesse got to see Genji’s lips move to form his _name_ , and for the first time in a long time, Jesse was overcome with a dangerous urge.

_Kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him_

“Genj,” he whispered back.

“I wanted to thank you,” Genji said, and he reached over and took Jesse’s hand, linking their fingers in that way that McCree had always sought out when they were young and afraid. “For saving my life. Even if I probably would have been okay.”

Jesse laughed a little at that, but he was more distracted by how surprisingly warm Genji was to the touch.

“It was my pleasure,” he purred out. “Honour, more like. I… I just…”  
He fumbled, trying not to out himself.  
“I just want to make sure you’re safe. It means a lot to me that you’re safe n’ happy.”

Genji leant in close, pressing their shoulders together in that way he always had whenever he was trying to comfort the cowboy.

“Do you know,” he started softly, “that I wish for you to be safe and happy also?”

Jesse’s breath caught in his throat.  
“Where’s this comin’ from, Genj?” he half-laughed, and he’d gone tenser than a bowstring.

“…Hanzo implied you had something to tell me,” Genji admitted after a moment. “And so did Echo. And Captain Amari. And Angela.”

“Oh, for _fuck’s_ sake,” Jesse growled, a spike of anger shoving down all the embarrassment he was feeling before.

“Is it true?”

“So what if it is? It’s nothing, Genji.”

“Angela especially insisted that I press past your insistences of ‘it’s nothing’,” Genji countered, very matter of fact. “Jesse, I trust you. If I’ve hurt you, I want to know, so I can do right by you.”

_If I’ve hurt you, I want to know._

“Oh,” Jesse hummed. “Oh, Genj.”

Genji turned to him properly, and the liquidy glitter of his dark eyes stole Jesse’s breath away. He was caught for a moment, under the stars, just staring at the beautiful man beside him, before he made himself look away.

“I don’t…” Jesse swallowed hard. “Look, there’s a few things that could go wrong tonight, Genji.”

“Do tell.”

Jesse swallowed again, swallowed down the urge to cough once more.  
“I… I tell you, I ruin our relationship. I don’t tell you, and I get sicker. I _do_ tell you, and I get sicker. The reaction of telling you is so extreme it kills me anyway. Or I do tell you, and I get a happy ending.”

Jesse looked up at the stars and laughed.

“And that last one is the most unlikely,” he said conversationally, squeezing Genji’s hand gently as if trying to goad him into laughing at his sad lot in life. “That kinda shit don’t happen to me.”

“…It could,” Genji whispered softly.

Jesse shook his head.

“Try me, cowboy,” Genji pressed again. “I am all ears; whether your claims of death are figurative or not.”

Jesse closed his eyes, and debated inwardly with himself.  
In that moment of silence, the urge to cough hit him once again, this time far more uncontrollable, and he couldn’t help himself, hacking a couple flowers into his hand, catching them before the wind snatched them.

Genji’s eyes widened, but Jesse kept them in his curled-up fist, out of sight, debating with himself.  
Then he sighed.

“No use hidin’ it any longer, I guess,” he said quietly. “Genji… I…”

He shrugged uselessly, and opened his hand.

Genji stared at the handful of cherry blossoms in Jesse’s hand, all stained a little red with blood, disbelievingly, before turning back to Jesse urgently.

“These are for me?” he asked, worry creeping into his voice.

Jesse stared down at the flowers, before giving up.  
“Yeah,” he said.

The silence only lasted a moment, but it felt like an eternity.  
Jesse had never wanted to drop dead so badly in his life.

“Look,” he broke the silence. “I… I _know_. You don’t gotta say anything, you don’t gotta do anything. I’m just truckin’ along, I’ll be fine. It’s been so long, I can live with a little longer, y’know? And-”

“So _long?”_ Genji cut in, his voice thick with sudden emotion, and Jesse turned back to him in a panic.

“No! I mean, well, yeah, no, it’s nothing, it’s fine, it’s-”

“Jesse,” Genji cut him off again, and Genji’s hand was on Jesse’s cheek, surprisingly warm, guiding Jesse’s eyes back to his. “It’s okay. I… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t you go apologisin’, now,” Jesse laughed, all of a sudden on the verge of tears. “It’s… I… Look, it’s fine.”

“It’s not _fine,”_ Genji shook his head. “Did it ever occur to you, Jesse, that I could, and in fact, _might_ feel the same way?”

Jesse’s heart skipped so many beats, he was almost convinced it stopped.

“I…” Genji ran his free hand through his hair. “Leaving you behind was one of the worst decisions of my life.”

Jesse turned away, unable to keep from crying now. But Genji’s hand was still in his, and Genji squeezed his hand tight to reassure Jesse they were still there, together.

“I… I am a changed man, now, Jesse. And I am at peace with many things I have done. But not with that. Not with abandoning you.”

Jesse was shaking.

“That’s awful strong language,” he said wetly. “You had to find yourself. I understood. I still do.”

“Just because I had _reasons_ didn’t mean they were good ones, or the right ones,” Genji countered, and he carefully turned Jesse’s head back, handling him like the cowboy was made of porcelain. “I see now I’ve hurt you dearly.”

“Oh,” Jesse laughed. “This thing is older than that. Don’t you worry.”

“ _Older_ ,” Genji echoed in horror and in awe. “Jesse…”

“Oh, fuck,” Jesse said with a very cry-sounding laugh. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I’m upset at _me,”_ Genji said firmly. “For not doing _this_ sooner!”

Before Jesse could ask what ‘this’ was, Genji was moving, had tugged him around and away from the edge, and was all but climbing into his lap to press his lips against Jesse’s.

Jesse’s brain short-circuited.

Genji was…  
Genji was kissing him.  
Genji was _kissing him!_  
_Genji was kissing him!!!_

His arms wrapped around Genji’s waist as the ninja deepened the kiss, and they lost themselves for a moment under the stars.

Genji pulled back, eyes glittering, and Jesse could only stare in response, adoration plain on his face.  
“I…” Jesse wet his lips. “Genji? May I be so bold as to say I love you?”

“You may,” Genji said, leaning in to pepper kisses across his face. “And I may also be as bold as to tell you that I love you too.”

Jesse stared at him.  
_I love you too._  
Four words he never expected to hear in his life. Four words he might never have heard before.  
He felt light as air.

Then his lungs seized up.

He started to cough, and he did his best to scoot back from Genji to not get blood and whatnot over him, but when it didn’t _stop_ , Jesse managed to shoot a panicked look to the ninja, before hacking up a great chunk of flowers.

Genji was already pulling out his communicator.  
“Angela! Something’s wrong with Jesse’s hanahaki.”

* * *

The next twelve-ish hours were stressful, tense, and Jesse McCree was aware of exactly none of it.

“At an admission of love,” Angela said tersely, dragging holoscreens around as she quickly started to prepare for a surgery, “the body tries to clear itself of hanahaki. For a normal case, it's a matter of the body coughing up what little has taken root. But for something as deep-set as this... This is the dangerous part for Jesse. Go get me some help, would you? Ana, Zenyatta, Lúcio, I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

Soon there was a small entourage of doctors and close-enoughs gathered in the medbay, Genji was sealed out, told to let Winston, at least, know, and Genji was left once again wondering if he’d ever see his cowboy again.

“I will do my very best,” Angela had _sworn_ as she kicked him out of the room. “We will not lose him again.”

After running all the errands requested of him, Genji came and sat outside the medical bay doors, cross-legged on the floor, under the guise of meditation.  
He did not have Zenyatta for comfort today, as Angela had requested his assistance. But over the day, others came and sat with him, silent, with faces pinched with concern.

Reinhardt came and lowered himself carefully into one of the too-small-for-him seats outside in the corridor (where he ended up falling asleep). Jack Morrison passed by a few times throughout the day, offering Genji a curt nod every time which the ninja did not return.  
Brigette came, to check on Reinhardt, mostly, it seemed, but she gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder, and cast a worried glance towards the door.  
Hana came, and sat sprawled on the floor, her head on Genji’s knee, wordlessly playing Pokémon on an ancient-looking handheld device.  
Winston and Lena came, to quietly ask if there was any news, to which Genji had to shake his head. Lena plopped down on the floor beside him, and Winston stayed for another twenty minutes, before his communicator went off and he had to excuse himself with a grieving voice.  
Lena did her best to sit still, but after a while, she got up and murmured she had things to do, trying to keep her mind off worst outcomes, that sort of thing, before blinking away into the gloom.  
Hanzo brought a pot of tea and two cups, and took up a spot on the floor beside him, silent, keeping vigil with him.  
Others, too. The cowboy had always been good at making friends. But Genji paid them no mind. It was all he could do to keep himself focussed, focussed on Jesse, Jesse who’d been hurting for so long, Jesse, who he still might lose.

As five hours bled into six, he ended up dozing off, slumping onto his brother’s shoulder. He ended up jolting awake as the door opened, and the robot monk Zenyatta softly closed the door behind him.

“My skills cannot help him anymore,” Zenyatta said softly to the small crowd. “They are still fighting for him. I… do not know if it goes well.”

And with that, he inclined his head, and drifted over to sit beside his student.

“Master…” Genji started, turning to him, and it was in that moment that he realised he didn’t have his face-plate, or his helmet, and his emotions were there for all to see. “…Do you think he will survive?”

Zenyatta took a moment to sit, to _actually_ sit, on the floor beside Genji (where Hana had been lying before, before she’d given up her Pokémon for the night after losing to the same gym master for the fourth time and declaring she was going to bed), and gently flicking his wrist. One of his harmony orbs drifted over to gently orbit around Genji’s head.

“I…” Zenyatta was picking his words carefully. “His fate still lies in the hands of the Iris, for now.”

Genji accepted his master’s words, accepted the feeling of calm the harmony orb gifted him, and settled back into position, prepared to wait. He turned his head to check on Hanzo, and a tiny smile played about his lips as he realised his brother was asleep, leant back against the wall, snoring lightly.

“Master,” Genji found himself saying, and he was turning back to Zenyatta as the question that had been plaguing him finally bubbled over. “Is… is this my fault?”

“What do you mean, my student?”

“Jesse… dying,” Genji said softly, and he _forced_ himself to use the word, because it would probably come to pass, he was just trying to steel himself. “It’s for _me_. He said he’d held onto it for years, since before I left Blackwatch… He loved me, and I left anyway. Is this my fault?”

“Did he tell you, back then?”

“No.”

“Then I dare say,” Zenyatta said with a peaceful shake of his head, “that this cannot be your fault. You can only act on what you know, and you did not know of his affections until…?”

“Tonight,” Genji answered softly. “I kissed him.”

“Do you love him?”

It was such an unexpected, and _raw_ question. Genji flinched, grateful that everyone else had drifted back to sleep by now. But Zenyatta simply looked at him, waiting for an answer, head tilted curiously to the side.

“I…”  
Genji shivered, and ran his hand through his hair.  
“I do,” he whispered. “He was the first good thing that ever happened to me.”

Zenyatta dipped his head, and put his hand on his student’s knee.   
“You will be alright,” he promised, with such a steady vigour that Genji _believed him_. “No matter the outcome of tonight.”

Genji shivered again, and he couldn’t stop the tears that beaded in his eyes.  
“After all this,” he said softly, sort-of laughing, sort-of not, “it took him trying to save me from a collapsing building for me to realise. He did it before, you know? When my armour was less effective. I still ended up with a steel beam in my shoulder, but it saved me. That was the day Jesse lost his arm.”

He shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself.  
“I wonder if that was before or after the hanahaki,” he mused. “When we first met, Jesse told me he didn’t believe in love. I wonder when that changed.”

“You will have to ask him,” Zenyatta said matter-of-factly.

Genji laughed a little, wiping away his tears, before deciding to wholeheartedly believe in the unspoken promise in Zenyatta’s words, and wait for tomorrow.

* * *

Angela was the last to leave the room. She sent Ana and Lúcio out before her, a couple hours in between, because Ana’s energy flagged first, and towards the end, there wasn’t much more Lúcio could do. Ana held herself with dignity until she slumped into a chair beside Reinhardt, who was now awake, and put an arm around her as she did her best not to fall asleep.

Lúcio stumbled from the room, and Hana (who had returned, and was levelling up her Pokémon before attempting the gym again) shifted over to leave a space for him. He practically collapsed down beside her, and the moment Hana spared a hand to play with his hair, the musician was asleep.

It made Genji worry, a little. Not just for Jesse, but for Angela too.

After some time, Torbjörn wandered up, followed by Brigette, and they sat down next to Ana and Reinhardt.  
“Did the tech work?” Torb asked gruffly, nodding to Ana, who smiled thinly.

“I believe so,” she said. “Thank you. I think you saved his life.”

Torbjörn nodded again, more to himself, and settled down for the wait, as did his daughter.

Another hour dragged on, before the door finally opened once more.

Angela stood there, looking haggard and exhausted and probably about to collapse herself, but more importantly? _Smiling.  
_“He’s asleep right now,” she announced, voice thin with weariness. “But he’ll make it.”

Genji had leapt to his feet, and had closed the distance to throw his arms around her before she’d even finished speaking. She hugged him back without hesitation.

“If he dies now, he’ll have done it on purpose,” she joked, and Genji laughed.

“You truly are a master,” he said. _“Thank you_ , Angela. Now, you need to get some sleep.”

“I need to make sure-”

“Get some sleep before I sleep-dart you myself,” Ana called from across the room, where she was barely clinging to consciousness too.

“You too,” Genji declared imperiously. “All of you. Lúcio has the right idea.”

Lúcio mumbled something in his sleep, and rolled over, curling up towards Hana.

* * *

Genji made them go, Angela insisting she sleep in the medical ward just in case, and he took up his vigil at Jesse’s bedside instead of through a door.

Despite all her protests, Angela zonked out immediately, and soon her snoring filled the air. Echo had come in now, to join Genji’s watch, and also because her charging station was still by Jesse’s bedside as well.

Now that he was more-or-less assured that Jesse wasn’t at risk of dropping dead in that very moment, Genji allowed himself a moment to relax, posture loosening for the first time that night.  
And now that the panic drained away, he felt _exhausted._

“You get some sleep too, Genji,” Echo said softly, the dimness of the medical bay cut by her blue glow. “I’ll watch over him. I promise to wake you the moment anything happens.”

Genji thought about arguing. He was trying to put together the reasons why should stay awake when sleep hit him like an assassin from behind, and he was out of it before a word left his lips.

* * *

The morning sun was creeping across the room when Jesse McCree woke once more. He stared blankly at nothing, his brain taking a long while to catch up with whatever just happened.

He breathed in.

It was a small gesture. Shouldn’t’ve really meant anything. But it was so _easy,_ breathing had never been so _easy_ before, except maybe when he was young and playing with his sister in the street.

He bolted upright – or he tried to. His whole chest flared with pain, and Jesse winced, expecting a cough, but

His lungs were clear.

His _lungs were clear?_  
He couldn’t remember what breathing easy felt like.

_What happened?_

The last thing he remembered was kissing Genji and coughing up his guts.

Jesse’s eyes widened.  
_He kissed Genji._

He jolted again, realising that the pain wasn’t from hanahaki but probably from –

He pulled up his shirt and checked his chest.  
There was bandaging there, and it was fresh.  
\- from surgery.

“Howdy, cowboy,” hummed a soft voice he knew so very well, and Jesse jumped, turning to see _Genji_ at his bedside, scooting his chair closer, before reaching out and taking Jesse’s hand.

“Howdy yourself,” Jesse rasped back, an adoring smile flicking about his face. “…I see I’m not dead.”

“No,” Genji agreed, rubbing his thumb across Jesse’s knuckles, and this time, Jesse noted with concern that his metal fingers were cool to the touch – he was upset. “Though Angela said you tried your hardest.”

“Speaking of Angela,” Genji added, looking up at someone who Jesse had also just realised was also in the room, “Echo, will you-?”

“Already on it,” Echo smiled, fingers moving against some screen only she could see. “Messaging Dr. Zeigler now.”

“Oh,” Jesse said limply. “Oh, she’s gonna kill me.”

“No, she tried very hard not to, actually,” Echo shot back with a light laugh – one that was pinched with something strained, something that Jesse picked up on immediately, and winced.

“Sorry,” he immediately said.

“Don’t apologise,” Echo shook her head. “Should he apologise, Genji?”

“Absolutely not,” Genji agreed, patting Jesse’s hand.

Jesse’s face heated up, and he reached for his hat to pull over his face, and when he didn’t find it, he decided a pillow was close enough, and ended up making a sound similar to a stove-top tea kettle when it had reached boiling point as his friends laughed at him.

* * *

A few weeks later, Jesse was sitting on the overpass it had all sort-of gone to shit on in the late afternoon, a cigar between his metallic fingers and his head tilted back as he enjoyed the sensation of simply _breathing._

“You know,” said a voice, and Jesse didn’t jump, or open his eyes. The only reaction he couldn’t fight down was his lips being tugged upwards into a smile. “You might actually keep your lungs in good condition if you did not smoke.”

“Eh,” Jesse said nonchalantly, opening his eyes and leaning to the side to stub out the cigar on the ground. “P’raps you’re right, Genji.”

It was only when cool metal settled next to him did Jesse turn, and he couldn’t keep the smile down as he realised Genji was once again not wearing his face-plate.

“I always did like seeing your eyes,” he hummed thoughtlessly, enjoying the way he could hear Genji’s systems pick up into that definitely-not-a-purr. “You’ve always had beautiful eyes.”

Genji laughed softly at that, and offered his hand. Jesse immediately took it, squeezing gently, before turning back to the view of the sea, taking a deep breath in and enjoying the feeling. They sat like that just for a moment.

“It must be nice, no?” Genji broke the silence. “To breathe freely.”

“Mm,” Jesse closed his eyes. “I know it ain’t as good as it once was, back when I were young, an’ all, but… _fuck_ , Genj, it’s nice for everything not to smell of cherry blossoms.”

He let Genji squeeze his hand, and he turned his head to wink at the ninja.

“They don’t taste good,” he said conspiratorially.

“I could tell you that,” Genji raised an eyebrow. “I got dared to eat them, once.”

“Yeah, it ain’t great,” Jesse laughed.

They fell into another silence, but Jesse, for the first time in years, didn’t feel worried in Genji’s presence. Everything was _right_ in the world. Like it was the day _before_ the prank and the broom closet and the flowers. They’d come so far.

A thought hit Jesse, a terribly sad thought that made him flinch. And of course, Genji picked it up right away, and leant into the cowboy’s side for comfort, pressing their shoulders together.

“You alright, cowboy?”

Jesse laughed, a breathy thing that barely left his nose.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Just… I just wondered what, uh, what Reyes would think of us now.”

Genji wordlessly squeezed his hand once more.

“He’d probably clap me over the head and tell me it was _about damn time,_ honestly.”

“He knew?” Genji asked softly.

“He… uh,” Jesse fumbled for words. “It was the day you left. I just… He found out. I…”

“The day I left,” Genji echoed.

“I was goin’ to tell you,” Jesse shrugged loosely. “But you can’t tell someone something if they ain’t there. So. I didn’t.”

“Oh,” Genji said.

“Hey,” Jesse tacked on quickly. “It’s my fault for not workin’ up the courage sooner, alright? And my fault for not trying to reach out and contact you. Ange said you two had been writing letters. If I’d let anyone know I was still alive I probably could’ve contacted you.”

“I just want you to know, Jesse,” Genji said thickly. “That you are one of the most wonderful humans on this planet, and you deserve good things.”

Jesse blinked, and his eyes began to sting, but he squeezed Genji’s hand and laughed it down.

“Well now, that’s fortunate,” he smiled. “Because I’ve got a good thing, the best thing, sittin’ right next to me.”

“Oh, you charmer,” Genji snorted, before leaning in and kissing McCree’s cheek. “I missed you. I’m sorry you had to save me from a collapsing building for me to realise I love you. I am not the most observant, or so my master tells me.”

Jesse blinked, before laughing again.  
“Honestly, I could’ve told you that years go,” he shook his head playfully.

“Yes,” Genji agreed, poking his metal arm pointedly, “you could’ve.”

“Now, now,” Jesse said quickly, untangling their fingers and moving to wrap his arm around Genji’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “Don’t you go blaming yourself for me. Every action I’ve taken in my life has been my choice. Even if it’s getting stuck in collapsing buildings twice.”

“You are too good for me.”

“Naw,” Jesse leant in to rest his head on top of Genji’s, who leant back, and they slotted together just as well as they always had. “I doubt that.”

They sat there, together, and Jesse felt a smile touch his lips as he heard Genji’s systems start to purr.

“Jesse,” the ninja said softly, looking up at him, and Jesse was falling more and more in love with the curve of Genji’s lips as he spoke the cowboy’s name. “Jesse… I feel like we have skipped a step.”

“How so?”

“I should like you to go on a date with me,” Genji stated plainly, and Jesse’s eyes went wide, face heating up. “There is a lovely café that Angela was telling me about in town, I would like to take you.”

“A date,” Jesse echoed. “That’s what you want?”

“I want to be with you, romantically,” Genji tilted his head. “Is that okay?”

“Aww,” Jesse cooed, laughing so that he didn’t cry, “you want me t’be your _boyfriend_ , do you?”

“Yes,” Genji said.

The bluntness was the funny bit. The rest of it was just so emotional, and Jesse had to pull Genji into a tight hug so that the ninja didn’t see how tears leaked into his beard. Though he thought Genji could tell, by how his chest was heaving just a little.

“Jesse?”

“Yep,” Jesse said softly, dropping his chin to bury his face in Genji’s raven hair. “I… yep.”

“Is that all you have to say?” Genji teased lightly, wrapping his arms around Jesse and patting his back.

“Yep,” Jesse repeated, letting a watery laugh bubble out of him.

Genji snorted right back, and pulled away just enough to look up at Jesse with those eyes McCree loved so much.

“I love you,” he declared.

Jesse withdrew an arm and caught Genji’s chin carefully, tilting his head up to the appropriate kissing angle.

“I know,” he murmured back.

“And?” Genji prompted, eyes glittering with mischief, and all of a sudden, Jesse was in a different place, a different time, with a warm ninja pressed up to his chest with those same eyes, and the same overwhelming urge of _kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him!_

“I love you too,” Jesse grinned. “Now shut up an’ _kiss me_.”

And Genji did. And all was right with the world.


End file.
